


Coming Home

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, Tumblr fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 00:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3876205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in a fictional season nine, a quick one-shot of Sam making it home after a few days away. An old fic being moved from Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone--
> 
> This is a shorter fic being moved from Tumblr into my Tumblr fics series. It was written quite a while ago, so it's set in some sort of ficitonalized season nine, I suppose.  
> There's really no warnings, it's a little fluffy piece.  
> (Prompt was: Reunion sex/cuddling/whatever after a long day apart?)

            Apparently, ancient lore on angels isn’t all that easy to come by. And not even the Men of Letters have everything.

            Sam, being the nerd that he is, found some copy of some ancient book at some college two states away. Dean had offered to come with, but Sam had shot him down. “You get like an annoying puppy when you’re bored. I need to work.”

            Fine. Dean could entertain himself for a few days.

            It’s been three days and, yeah, Dean isn’t alone—Crowley is in the dungeon and Kevin is in the library, taking an online college course like Sam talked him into doing—but he feels pretty damn lonely without Sam. Sam called once yesterday and once the day before, but Sam gets so into his research, and nothing can pull him away from it. Not even Dean, using the low and growly voice he knows turns Sam on, asking Sam what color underwear he’s wearing. So the calls have been short, Dean hasn’t had any company but his own right hand, and he misses Sam.

            Which is why it’s such a relief when he hears the big bunker door finally creak open, and the heavy footsteps of his brother coming doing the stairs. “Guys?” Sam calls.

            “In here,” Dean responds, going for nonchalant but probably sounding desperate.

            Sam kisses him, quickly, when he gets to the room, but Dean can tell he’s still in research mode. “Hey, so, I found some things you’re gonna find interesting, and where’s Kevin, should probably tell him this too—“

            Dean pulls Sam back down for a longer kiss, wrapping one hand in Sam’s hair, holding his head where Dean can reach it. When he pulls back, he rests their foreheads together. “Slow down,” he says. “Is anyone gonna die if we don’t look at all that research right now?”

            “Well, no, but I did spend two days finding it, and…”

            “And I’ll be very grateful tomorrow,” Dean says. “For now, I want you, me, our bed. That’s it.”

            Sam’s stomach growls. “Can’t I eat first?”

            Dean lets Sam go to the kitchen and get a bowl of chicken and rice that Dean made earlier, and then he drags Sam to their room. “Dean, I said eat, not just smell the damn food—“

            Dean plops onto the bed, pressing back against the headboard, and makes no move to take off his clothes. Instead, he picks the remote up off the nightstand and flips it onto the Discovery channel, leaving the volume low. “Can eat here just fine,” Dean says, making an inviting spot for Sam under his arm.

            So Sam slides onto the bed, sits pressed up against Dean, Dean’s arm around his shoulder, and slowly eats his dinner while they watch TV. Every few minutes, Dean will lean over and pepper Sam’s neck and face with kisses, licking and nipping at whatever he can reach. Sam puts his bowl down and slides downward, so his head is resting on Dean’s chest, ear over his heart, the steady beat making him drift off towards sleep.

            Dean cards one hand through Sam’s hair, growing tired himself. “Missed you, Sammy,” he murmurs.

            Sam doesn’t reply; he’s already asleep. Dean smiles, kisses the top of his head, and slides further down the bed, allowing his eyes to drift closed with Sam nestled firmly in his arms.


End file.
